Page 68 of Obsessed Heir

“She wasn’t planning to accompany me on the trip originally,” she admits.

“I’m aware,” I say, holding on to my patience.

“For obvious reasons,” she adds pointedly.

I’m aware of that also, but I choose not to engage in that loaded discussion, keeping my thoughts to myself.

“But,” she continues, reverting to her unaffected expression, “when I hurt myself, I convinced her to come along to help me.”

“And she happened to bring her suitcase packed and ready, even though she wasn’t coming on board?” I ask, arching a skeptical brow. Did she forget I saw Abigail with her luggage?

“Oh, that wasn’t her suitcase,” she states with a dismissive shake of her head. “It’s mine. I drastically overpacked,” she admits in a sheepish tone. “Holly told me she wanted me to be ready for pictures that might end up featured on your cruise line’s website and promotional material.”

Every single annoying comment about Abigail being a grifter, fleecing my mother for money, does a replay in my head. Besides, knowing how the McClellands love to shop, I can easily imagine her filling up a second, or even third suitcase.

Which leaves me wondering about the shopping trip Abigail cut short. “So, what did she do about clothes?” I ask, keeping my tone carefully neutral.

“She went shopping yesterday, but she didn’t find anything suitable,” she replies with a frown.

I pick up my drink and sit back in my chair. “That’s surprising,” I add with a note of skepticism in my voice.

“She said it’s all horribly overpriced.” She gives a delicate shudder, as if the thought of affordable clothing offends her sensibilities.

“I can’t argue that,” I interject. “The shops and boutiques on board cater to specific clientele with expensive tastes.” It’s all part of cultivating the luxury experience they would expect.

“Which is why Iinsistedon paying for her wardrobe myself,” she states firmly. Then she presses her lips together as if that’s the end of it.

And there it is. “I see.” Our most recent blowout was over her spending, specifically what she was throwing at Abigail without a second thought.

“She went out again this morning and got everything she needed for the rest of the trip.”

“Of course she did.” The champagne turns bitter in my mouth. Why not take advantage of the fact I’m not around, and go spend my mother’s money? She was biding her time, tryingto have her shopping trip covered. Six or seven days’ worth of clothing would run thousands of dollars, maybe even tens of thousands.

“Oh come now, Barron.” She shakes her head. “You can’t blame a girl for doing a bit of shopping while on vacation. The shops here are divine.”

I certainly can. And I will. Though I reply with nothing more than a grunt.

“I asked Holly to take her around when they went off to set up for the photographer,” she says with an air of satisfaction.

“So, she spent my money instead of yours,” I retort.

She presses her lips into that line of disapproval. “Whatever Abigail spent,” she states quietly, “is nothing compared to what you’ve already spent on the girl to begin with.”

It’s a beautifully landed blow. I pause, giving her the barest nod to acknowledge the score. Had this happened to someone else, I would applaud at how well she turned the tables on the poor fool.

Draining the last swallow of champagne, I set the flute down with a dull thunk and rise to my feet, suddenly needing to be anywhere but here.

“If you’ll excuse me, Mother, I need to go oversee things at the club for a bit this evening.” The waiter arrives, setting a stand beside our table.

“Barron,” she chastises in a hushed tone, “this is incredibly rude.”

“I’m sure it’s to be expected.” I smooth down my suit coat. “Considering how often you remind me I’m so much like my father.”

With that, I turn on my heel and stride away, leaving her to her dinner.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Abigail

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